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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310576">Flow It, Show It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks'>Marks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Hair Braiding, Love Languages, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Trick or Treat: Treat, acts of service, hair fascination</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:28:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310576</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your hair has grown quite long.”</p><p>Ferdinand smiles, wry. “Observant as always, Hubert.” He twirls one long strand around his finger, even though it isn’t proper etiquette for tea, and unravels it, watching as the curl bounces back into place. “I have not cut it since Edelgard cut ties with the Church, but victory is nearly assured now. Perhaps it is time I part with it. Do you think I should?”</p><p>If Hubert were less put together, Ferdinand thinks he might have spluttered into his coffee. “No,” he says quickly, putting down his cup. “No, your hair is— it’s fine. I was merely making an observation.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Trick or Treat Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Flow It, Show It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyavericked/gifts">nyavericked</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ferdinand's hair is almost a character of its own. Title from "Hair" from <i>Hair</i>. But you probably all knew that.</p><p>I hope you like this little treat, nyavericked!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Your hair has grown quite long.”</p><p>Ferdinand smiles, wry. “Observant as always, Hubert.” He twirls one long strand around his finger, even though it isn’t proper etiquette for tea, and unravels it, watching as the curl bounces back into place. “I have not cut it since Edelgard cut ties with the Church, but victory is nearly assured now. Perhaps it is time I part with it. Do you think I should?”</p><p>If Hubert were less put together, Ferdinand thinks he might have spluttered into his coffee. “No,” he says quickly, putting down his cup. “No, your hair is— it’s fine. I was merely making an observation.”</p><p>*</p><p>Ferdinand pulls his hair back into a long tail, swishing it behind him just like his favorite pony, Helmuth. It brushes against the middle of his back, more noticeable now that he’s removed his shirt in order to spar with Caspar, unobstructed. Caspar has grown quite strong with his lance, but this is still Ferdinand’s forté and soon he has Caspar pinned to the ground.</p><p>“I give,” Caspar says cheerfully, taking Ferdinand’s hand to help pull him back to his feet. “Gosh, you really get sweaty when we fight!”</p><p>Ferdinand looks down, as if surprised to find his chest and abdominals glistening with the effort of a hard-won fight. “Oh, I suppose you’re right,” he says. He finds a handkerchief within the inside pockets of his discarded overcoat and wipes at his brow, before bending over for his cooldown stretch.</p><p>“Wow, you’re so flexible!” Caspar observes. “Cool! Oh, hi Hubert!”</p><p>Ferdinand, the ends of his ponytail brushing against the dirt floor of the training grounds, looks between his legs to find Hubert there, frozen still and red in the face.</p><p>“Oh! Hello, Hubert,” Ferdinand says, straightening up again and smiling at his friend. “How long have you been standing there?”</p><p>*</p><p>It is unusual for all of the Black Eagle Strike Force to eat meals together nowadays, what with the busy war effort and campaigns and all, so Ferdinand revels in the opportunity. Sandwiched at a table in between Petra and Linhardt and across from Hubert, Ferdinand lingers after the meal, full and warm and happy. He does not even mind that Linhardt has fallen asleep on his shoulder, though Linhardt’s drool does not thrill him.</p><p>“Ferdinand,” Petra says, reaching out to gently smooth down his hair without jostling Linhardt, “you are to be having nearly as much hair as me.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Ferdinand agrees, “though yours looks so much nicer than mine. It is obvious that you take very good care of it.”</p><p>“You don’t care for your hair?” Petra asks. “That is surprise— surprising to me.”</p><p>Ferdinand tilts his head. “Does it look all right, then?”</p><p>“Oh yes,” Petra assures him. Ferdinand can sense someone’s eyes on him, and though he does not turn his head away from Petra to look, he knows they are Hubert’s. The thought makes him feel even warmer than the meal, though he cannot precisely explain why. “It is very healthy and the color is bold, like you. But I am liking to braid my hair, maybe you would like that, too?”</p><p>“I’ve tried,” Ferdinand confesses, leaning in conspiratorially, “but I have no talent for it. It wound up more of a snarl than it began.”</p><p>Petra laughs. “You are needing someone to do it for you, then.”</p><p>“Perhaps,” Ferdinand agrees.</p><p>*</p><p>Ferdinand wants to be a good advisor, he really does. He <i>wants</i> to listen to the professor outline the newest plan to take down Lady Rhea once and for all. He <i>wants</i> to listen to Edelgard’s ideas on battle formations, so he can offer up his own. But his blasted hair keeps falling into his face, and he spends half of the meeting blowing it up and away.</p><p>“For the love of—”  Hubert suddenly exclaims from across the room, making everyone seated around the council table stop and stare at him. He clears his throat and stands, running his hands down the front of his jacket. Ferdinand watches their journey down Hubert’s chest and clears his own throat. “My apologies. Emperor, if it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, can we please take a five-minute break?”</p><p>Edelgard looks amused, but by what, Ferdinand couldn’t say. “Yes, of course, Hubert. In fact, let’s make it fifteen.”</p><p>“Indulgent,” Byleth says, and they both laugh. Everyone trickles out of the room, leaving only Hubert and Ferdinand behind. Once they are alone, Ferdinand rises and walks over to Hubert’s side, clapping a concerned hand on Hubert’s shoulder.</p><p>“Hubert, my friend, are you quite well?”</p><p>For some unknown reason, Hubert starts to laugh at that, deep and throaty, and the sound reverberates throughout Ferdinand’s own chest.</p><p>“I’m well,” Hubert says, putting his gloved hand over Ferdinand’s and squeezing. Ferdinand’s eyes widen at the impropriety, though perhaps it isn’t improper when Ferdinand finds the touch welcome. “You, however, are a mess.”</p><p>“Me?” Ferdinand says, indignant, and his voice merely squeaks a little when Hubert squeezes his hand once again. “I am very well.”</p><p>“Of course <i>you</i> are,” Hubert agrees, contradicting his earlier words, “but I wouldn’t say as much for your hair.”</p><p>“My—” Ferdinand pulls his hand from Hubert’s shoulder to tuck his hair self-consciously behind his ear. “Oh,” he says, “I suppose it has been irritating me more than is acceptable. I apologize if my fussing has bothered you.”</p><p>“You are never a bother, Ferdinand,” Hubert says, something that he never would have said five years ago, and a sentence that never would have set Ferdinand’s heart aflutter five years ago either. He rises from his council seat and gestures to it. “Here. Sit.”</p><p>“What?” Ferdinand says, but he does as instructed.</p><p>Hubert leans down and speaks into Ferdinand’s ear. “You told Petra you have no talent for braiding your own hair,” he murmurs low, making all the hair on Ferdinand’s arms stand up. “Might I offer my own services?”</p><p>Ferdinand’s hand flies to the side of his head. “You want to—” He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. “Hubert, are you saying you would like to braid my hair?”</p><p>Hubert chuckles, and that throaty sound is still right next to Ferdinand’s ear; that close, his voice seems to get everywhere, echoing in Ferdinand’s head, skittering down the length of his spine, and closing around his heart and squeezing. “That is precisely what I’m saying,” he says and straightens up again.</p><p>“Okay,” Ferdinand squeaks. He clears his throat and licks his lips. “I mean, that would be acceptable.”</p><p>Hubert’s fingers are in Ferdinand’s hair as soon as he’s given permission, and the soft press of his gloved hands against Ferdinand’s scalp are enough to make his eyes drift shut. The work Hubert does is the same as everything else he sets his brilliant mind to — quick, efficient, and refined. Ferdinand does little other than breathe quickly under his machinations, all too aware that the pleasure he feels at Hubert’s attention will be over quickly when their fifteen minutes are up.</p><p>“Where did you learn to do this?” Ferdinand asks, once he trusts himself enough to speak evenly. He expects the answer to be something like Hubert learned it for Edelgard or he once needed to braid himself a murder rope in a pinch.</p><p>“I read it in a book,” Hubert says. “It was the night I overheard you speaking with Petra.”</p><p>Ferdinand’s eyes fly open again. “You learned this for me? Why?”</p><p>Hubert produces a ribbon from inside his jacket and ties off the end of Ferdinand’s braid. “I suppose I thought it might come in handy.” He pauses. “Did it?”</p><p>Ferdinand reaches up and gingerly pats down the length of his braid, finding it tight enough to constrain his hair but not so tight that he’ll have a headache later. He stands and faces Hubert. “You learned this for me,” he repeats, a note of wonder in his voice.</p><p>Hubert’s cheeks are dusted pink, the color spreading out toward the tips of his ears. “We’ve already established that,” he says, ducking his head bashfully.</p><p>“Thank you,” Ferdinand says, placing his hand against the side of Hubert’s face and leaning in to press a kiss to Hubert’s surprised mouth. He hurries back to his seat just as everyone starts to return, his face as red as his neatly braided hair.</p>
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